....since I've heard my mother's voice or seen her face.
Thirteen years.
That's a long time...actually just a few years shy of HALF of my life ago.
But, now that's all changed. Sort of.
Technically, I still haven't seen or heard her myself. BUT, my brother did see her a few weeks ago. And, he shared with me the pictures and video he took of his time with her.
Back story: My mother has been mentally ill for over 25 years. In 1997, legally certified as being mentally ill, she divorced my father and moved away. We've had next to no contact with her all these years...but have had a general idea of where she was. Three years ago, one of my sisters tracked her down in her group home and actually spoke with her for about 10 minutes. And, other than a few random - and completely indiscernible - letters over the years, that's all the contact we've had with her...until my brother sought her out and she allowed him to spend an entire hour with her.
In those 13 years, I've gone to and graduated from college, moved half-way across the country, bought a house, started my own business, traveled to numerous countries around the world, built successful ministries at my church, worked through many of the painful issues surrounding my childhood and have done so many other things.
Thirteen years is a long time.
Yet, as I looked at the pictures and as I watched the videos that my brother sent, everything of my childhood came flooding back. I remembered just how chaotic things were. How unstable. How illogical. How frustrating. How unsafe. How unpredictable.
And yet, it was also somehow different. Looking at my mentally ill mother as an adult offers an entirely different perspective than the one offered from the eyes of a child or teenager. Yes, I remembered all of the chaos, instability and unpredictability of my childhood. But, that was in tandem with the very present reality that hers is a life that's become so much less than it formerly was or was meant to be. And it made me really, really, really sad...for her.
Everyone always tells me that I'm just like her. I DO look remarkably like her. But, apparently our personalities were really similar as well. And, when I think of who I am - and that I actually like who I am - I become even that much more sad for her. Instead of the vibrant, vivacious, intelligent, compassionate woman she once was, she's now an empty, cold, essentially homeless woman without direction, goals or family. Her illness has stolen all that was her life - from her and from us.
I can't quite wrap my head around it all. These 13 years have allowed the reality of what once was (for me) but what still is (for her) to fade into the background. But, seeing her face and hearing her voice...even hearing her babble on and on in perceived nonesense...brought it all back. But, this time without the animosity toward her nor the feelings of responsibility I once had to hold our entire family together and/or to fix everything. Instead, feelings of sadness for her (for finally seeing her as a person from whom an illness has taken so much) as well as enormous amounts of gratitude to my heavenly Father for all He's done and all He's given to me.
A few days ago, I posted a status update on Facebook that read: Every once in a while, there are those days that profoundly impact you and remind you how difficult and intense life used to be, how much you've been delivered from and what you now would be without the love and intervention of Jesus. Today's one of those days...and brings with it profound, earth-shattering feelings of gratitude and unworthiness....and HOPE for what could be, for what WILL be, someday soon.
And, that's still how I feel. I'm eternally grateful for all that God's done...and hopeful for what He will continue to do in my life...and in my mom's.
Who knows what another 13 years will tell...?
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